Author's Note: Thanks for the continued interest. Hope you like the chapter-- I struggled a bit with the confrontation. Hope it doesn't seem OOC. Again, I don't own this stuff, wish I did!

Chapter 4

Wilson stood silently behind his desk until he heard the footsteps move away from the door. There was some brief commotion outside, but when he was sure he was left alone, he turned back to the bookshelf. Probably House he thought to himself as he took out the bottle of scotch masked by his bear. Wilson moved his coffee cup from his desk to the shelf of his bookcase, taking care to make sure that his body was blocking his actions from anyone that might pass by and glance through his back window. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a swig before pouring a generous amount in his cup. It had come to this. Cheap scotch. From Ardbeg to some North American crap probably made from toilet water. But that's what it took him to get though the day. Tears ran down his cheek as he thought of her. He sipped his coffee, then capped and returned the bottle to its hiding place, stiffening as he heard his the back door to his office open. House.

Juliana stood at the glass door and watched Wil for a moment before going in. She knew what he was doing even though his back impeded her view. Her thoughts briefly strayed to their brother Joe and how much James reminded her of him at that moment. She hated herself for thinking it. Wiping the disappointment from her face and replacing it with anger, she swung the door open and stepped inside.

"House, I'm busy," Wilson said mechanically. There was a movement of fabric as someone moved toward him. "House," he began, while turning to face the visitor, but the rest of the sentence died on his tongue before he could finish it.

Juliana's planned outrage, determination, confrontation melted away when she saw her older brother's red eyes. She took in the dark circles, the unkempt hair, the shadow of a beard, the rumpled appearance as her heart broke. Unable to say anything, she walked around the desk and embraced him. He bent down and weakly returned the hug.

"I wish you hadn't come," he said sadly.

"I wish you had told me about Amber," she responded quietly.

He didn't want to cry in front of Jules, to worry her, but the mention of Amber, hearing her name out loud, caused tears to slide down his cheeks. Juliana could feel the weight of her brother's sobs shake his body as she held him tightly, afraid that if she let go she'd lose him entirely.

The door flew open and smacked into the wall with an angry thud. A startled Lisa Cuddy looked up from her mountain of paperwork to see a livid Greg House limping toward her fast.

"House, what's wrong?" she asked concerned and a little bit frightened. She hadn't seen him this irate in a long time, well before the accident. He surprised her by not stopping in front of her desk, but making his way around it, glaring at her.

"House?" Cuddy said uneasily as he drew closer. She saw his arm move out of her peripheral vision and flinched, for a moment she thought he was going to strike her. House took a sharp intake of breath at her movement, irritated she could think he would hit her. Before Cuddy realized what he was doing, he reached across her, grabbed the luggage tag and yanked it free from the suitcase sitting beside her desk. He read the name of the bag's owner and confirmed what he already suspected. Violently, he tossed the tag onto Cuddy's desk, then limped back around the other side where he stood, glowering down at her.

"Had to," she said simply. "He needed her. "

"We had an agreement!" he seethed. "You and Wilson and I stood here, in this office--"

"I know," she interrupted. "But--"

"You both agreed that I would never have to see her again! That you would take every precaution to keep her away--"

"There wasn't any time--"

"No time to tell me?! I'm pretty sure you had time yesterday and this morning and this afternoon and when I asked you about the damn suitcase! You could have told me then!"

"I thought maybe you wouldn't have to know--"

"Right!" he screamed at her, not sure that the situation warranted such anger, but unable to control it.

"I didn't want to upset you more than you already--"

"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy! Thank you for worrying about me! Taking my feelings into consideration and completely ignoring them!"

"I had to call her!" she bellowed back, rising from her seat.

"You know how I feel about her and you brought her here anyway!"

"Wilson needs her!"

"Well, if Wilson needs something, then, by all means--"

"Don't start! Don't you dare start!" she yelled, rounding the desk to close the gap between them.

"Wilson, he's so sweet and sensitive! He needs this," House said nastily in a mocking, feminine voice. "House is already miserable, so who cares what--"

"What was I supposed to do? He needs to talk to someone. He won't open up to me! Have you had any luck?" she spat, briefly pausing for his response. "I didn't think so! He won't talk to me, he won't talk to you, he won't talk to Cameron or Chase or Foreman! He and his brother barely exchange Christmas cards! So you tell me what I was supposed to do!"

"You could have told me!"

"What good would that have done? You still would have thrown your temper tantrum!"

"You could have given me the day off! Sent me to a convention! That's what you usually do!"

"Silly me, I thought that if I gave you the day off for no reason you would think that I thought you needed a break! That I thought you hadn't recovered! That I'd lost faith in you! I didn't send you to a convention because you hate them and I figured that you would think I sent you away because I didn't want to have you around! You've just come out of a coma and lost your best friend, I didn't want you to feel more rejected!"

"Thanks for the pity. I take it where I can get it!" House said with a sneer.

"Oh shut-up! I'm not pitying you! I'm sympathizing, you ass! I know you're unfamiliar with the concept of friendship, but sometimes when a friend is going through rough time, a person will understand! Try to be thoughtful! You know, care!"

House continued to scowl at her, but sat down to massage his leg. His fury had propelled him to Cuddy's office, his need for Vicodin forgotten. But now the pain was yelling louder than Cuddy was.

She plopped down in the chair beside him and took a deep breath to quiet herself. "I know you hate her, but Wilson needs help. He's drinking. People have noticed. I can't deal with it. I don't know how to begin, where to begin. I'm no good at this stuff. I couldn't get you to stop popping Vicodin like breath mints. He needs someone that can help him. She's his best bet."

She waited for a reply, but House kept rubbing his thigh, grimacing, staring at the ground. Watching him she felt a twinge of guilt. He was being an idiot, but she knew that he was in so much pain. Not so much physically, but mentally. Wilson rebuffing House's attempts at reconciliation hurt him, not that that was an excuse for him to barge into her office and berate her. She wanted to comfort him in some way, to let him know that even if he acted like an ass, she would still be around. Physical comfort seemed the easiest, since there seemed to be nothing she could say to convince him that she genuinely cared for him, that she was there for him. She scooted her chair closer to his and tentatively reached out to touch his injured leg. He bristled for a moment at the contact, reminding himself that he was pissed with her, that he had every right to be. When he didn't push her hand away, she gently started to knead his thigh. His anger slowly faded into appreciation as she gently worked his sore muscle. House took solace in the attentiveness she showed him, the ease in which she could forgive him, or at least, temporarily forget his behavior. He relaxed and began to wonder how their friendship would end. What would he do or say that would turn her away from him? Like Stacey. Like Cameron and Foreman and Chase. Like Wilson.

Sensing he had calmed, Lisa decided to break the silence. "It's not her fault she's smart, you know."

"I don't care that she's smart," he said bitterly. When he noticed Cuddy raising her eyebrows he quickly added, "Well, it's not the reason I don't like her."

"Stacy's not her fault either. You screwed that up yourself."

"If she hadn't said what she said... We would have had another month or two, maybe more... if she hadn't been pushed--"

"No one was pushed, House. She didn't even know who Stacey was. All she knew was that Stacey was waiting to see Wilson. She could have been a patient, another doctor, anyone. Stacey sat next to her, opened up to her. For Jules, that was huge. She was 18 and had no friends. She was desperate to connect with someone outside her family. And it's not like you didn't make her life miserable afterwards." Cuddy changed her matter-of-fact tone to a more compassionate one, "It's been a long time. You should try to move on."

"Yeah. I'll do that." House would have been content to sit there and let Cuddy keep rubbing his thigh, but had no interest in continuing the conversation they were having. He didn't like Juliana and he wasn't going to start just because Cuddy suggested it. House took his cane from where he leaned it against the side of his chair and stood up.

"Are you leaving?" He noted the surprise and concern in her voice and almost felt guilty for going.

"Got to find Chase. I'm out of Vicodin. But don't worry, I'll be back later; I've got something else that could use a rub down." With a waggle of his eyebrows, House exited, his limp a little more pronounced than usual, leaving Cuddy relieved that they still weren't fighting.